


See the world in Me

by kunehonim



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunehonim/pseuds/kunehonim
Summary: In all that darkness, Chanyeol found light.





	See the world in Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:- mute!Baekhyun sends his fan mails to his favourite author, Park Chanyeol. And Chanyeol goes out of his way to meet this dedicated fan.

 

Chanyeol tosses the last book over his shoulder. It’s the last bit of it, nothing left on the shelf and everything else has already been packed and is ready to be lodged into the moving truck. There are bags under his eyes, and his eyebrows have formed a puzzled crease at the centre of his forehead. Sweat trickles down on his skin, and what the tired young man only does is to blindly reach for the face towel he had tossed hours ago to his side. When he doesn’t find it with a turn of his head, he comes to realize that he’d yet again created a mess of his home (he swore it was the last time he’d call it that), he decides instead to pull on the hem of his wife beater, wiping his face with it.

Chanyeol lets out a sigh as he feels not only the burden but also the stress of all this.

He doesn’t understand why they’re the one making a fuss about the whole thing when Chanyeol simply didn’t care. He wasn’t going to die over one simple book, but contrary to what he wants himself to believe, it quite ruined his life, technically killing him—his career, he means.

 

Chanyeol used to see him as his whole world, Jongin. He was the one who gave him the push that he needed to pursue what he is now, literally the one who shaped him up to become the successful author that he is, for he used to give life to every character that Chanyeol wrote about; every character that Chanyeol described, they all had a little bit of Jongin in them.

And now that he’d gone, taking everything he could, dancing away from the male’s life, he just can’t see what the big picture was anymore. It isn’t about the fame or the money it brings—never that, but the coming to life of his characters. Jongin taking one of his manuscripts to edit and publish under his own name was nothing to Chanyeol—in fact he’d kept mum about that fact despite his firm telling him to prepare for a lawsuit against him.

He was Chanyeol’s greatest love, his best friend and everything that moulded him into what he is now.

The author thinks that, just this one book—he owes at least that to Jongin, the one who _made_ him.

 

They all thought he’d gone insane.

 

It was natural that haters followed the steps of his loyal readers. They’d rejoice of his downfall, but still, just like how Jongin had been a conniving little thief who’d stolen from him, Chanyeol simply did not care nor hold any grudge over their actions. He was aware that he has a number of very loyal fans. Most of them were very easy to remember during his last book-signing in one of the local bookstores nearby.

And then, rumours started, people compared their style of writing, critics came and suddenly the one book that he allowed Jongin to get off with became a massive hit that even his own books were removed from the shelves that he used to see them in.

Chanyeol scoffed at the memory—seeing his own book, be replaced by his _own_ story under someone else’s name.

Humans sure are easy preys.

 

It’s then when he figured he should probably get away before the public turn their heads towards him. It’s enough that Jongin’s got the spotlight, dancing and roleplaying the characters in that book.

It’s enough that the young man managed to make him so dependent of him—that now, without his presence, Chanyeol would rather live a quiet life and fade out from the dimming spotlight over his head.

 

Yes. Chanyeol’s running away.

 

. . .

 

Six months pass. Jongin’s popularity steadies up towards the brightest of spotlights. Chanyeol has kept his eyes on him ever since, taking a seat back behind crowds and fans and more people that he’d ever seen in his life.

The news about his disappearance has long passed, articles were formed and rumours were extended from one person to another. Chanyeol has taken his time quite well, free from deadlines and manuscripts—from the mess of crumpled pieces of paper, his laptop in a blissful sleep. His firm accepted his plea for a hiatus since projects were put to a halt as soon as Jongin had proudly claimed Chanyeol’s manuscript as his own. He never held a grudge, yet so many people around him wished he would.

Still, half a year after Jongin betrayed him, Chanyeol still felt calm at the mention of his name. He could still smile at the memory of him.

It’s just that he didn’t find the heart to write anymore. It’s how Chanyeol understands the nature of everyone he knows’ anger for the person he loves. He love _d_.

 

Chanyeol’s moved out of his old home, the place which he and Jongin decided to rent years back when the male first got his big debut as a dancer. Jongin had been following his dreams ever since, and Chanyeol had just been more than in love with him—he couldn’t really remember anymore—all of those thoughts buried by memories of him spending the evenings alone, sitting in front of an empty seat in the dining hall, wishing the food he cooked for two would actually be consumed and not rot in the fridge after days.

He hasn’t put it up for sale—a hopeful thought that maybe Jongin would return to him, return home one day and that maybe everything happening that moment on was just temporary. It’s what Chanyeol wished at the corner of his mind once upon a time, until he’d been reminded that he hasn’t talked to Jongin for over a year already—it didn’t take any normal man to read between the lines.

Everything was over between them and it was so natural that Chanyeol himself didn’t even notice it as well.

He’d been living alone for a while already, that maybe it’s the reason why he’d already accepted it without acknowledging it.

 

8 months in, Chanyeol’s editor finally _finally_ tracks him down.

Junmyeon was sweating bullets by his door, and as Chanyeol motioned for him to get inside his quaint studio apartment for one, the blond had dragged in a sack, confusing the seasoned author that in the first time since the ugly road to Chanyeol’s career had been laid out; he finally makes an expression with his face.

Junmyeon sighs, of relief.

“Letters. All of them, yours.” The male wheezed unbuttoning his suit and letting it fall somewhere. The editor then stepped over to the side, whipping his head back and forth, “Where’s your kitchen? I’m thirsty.”

And Chanyeol merely pointed somewhere to the corner where his tiny fridge sat, bottles of water filling one slot of the appliance.

“These are…? For me?” He repeated. Chanyeol never knew such a thing about letters.

“You’ve been gone for almost a year now, Chanyeol. Your fans were bound to start making noise in your absence. Didn’t you know? Your books are being placed back on the shelves.

A group of well-known book reviewers have found a _diamond in the rough_ they called your books, and now more and more people are looking and wanting for more of you. Your fans wanted to relay the message to you—I didn’t read any of those letters. But they did send us an email, petitioning to get in contact with you personally. It’s absurd, but to say that you’ve built such a loyal fanbase is an amazing feat. Everyone misses you.” The blond then chugs down the last of the bottle’s content, heaving a relieved sigh.

“Some of those letters date back years. The mailing system in the company has only been fixed and they found your letters piling up. We had to give them some lecturing with regards to fan mail as they serve as a boost to every author in general.

This industry needs more of what you have, I tell you.”

Astonished, Chanyeol found himself seated on the carpeted floor. The sack is dirty, but that doesn’t affect him one bit as he pulls it upside down, spilling everything. He can sort it out. He’ll sort them one by one. He’ll read them too and he’ll send every one of them a reply.

“What do I do, Jun?” He asked. He guesses that the older has found his amazement a normal reaction to this—so far in Chanyeol’s career, he has only ever received one single letter—that letter being tucked in between the pages of the very first hardbound book that Chanyeol has ever published.

Now that he thinks about it, did that boy ever send him another letter?

Chanyeol found himself wanting to find out.

 

. . .

 

Three days in, Chanyeol found himself in front of his laptop. The keyboard is clacking under his fingertips. He’s been on the same shirt since Jun decided to let him be with himself, and as much as Chanyeol wanted to say his thanks to the man, he hadn’t given himself the split of a second to tear his gaze away from the worn out letters that he’s read.

There were so many of them, and he’d sorted some few in a box, not missing a beat to every fan as he’d collated them per sender. There’d been a particular fan there that’s claimed a whole box of Chanyeol’s arrangements. He’s had his eyes on that name, that three days as he begins writing for a new story, _this time it hasn’t to do anything with Jongin,_ Chanyeol had finally the inkling to go through his boxes, rummaging for that worn out book of his.

He found it on the fourth box, tearing it out of its safe place; Chanyeol had rushed quickly flipping the pages.

The paper was crusty now, yellow and fading on the edges, Chanyeol found himself with a pair of twinkling eyes as he looked at the very first fan mail that he’s received dating 4 years ago.

He remembers him, barely. But the emergence of love that’s welling in the pit of his stomach urges him with clear memory. He was a boy struggling to finish his studies as he’d introduced himself as, this fan…

 

Chanyeol found himself carefully pulling the letter out of its envelope again, re-reading it. He’d only read it for one day—for a whole day he means; sticking it to his side back then wherever he went as that fan gave him so much joy, spilling words of encouragement and telling him things about himself as though he’d written to a long-time friend.

It may be Chanyeol’s mind playing tricks on him, but as he began re-reading through the words, he only felt filled with such love again, bustling with innocence and a bright outlook for the future. As if this letter had been his saviour back then, for a struggling author who worried if anyone’s ever picked up his book that contained gibberish words from a teenager. Now, years after, the young author finds it pleasant to know that the same letter is back to save him.

This time, Chanyeol doesn’t stash the crusty envelope back in between the pages where it’s already made its visible mark.

There’s a new happiness surging inside him, and as he threads back towards the mess that he’s made in a long time, Chanyeol flops down onto the floor and stacks that same envelope over to the small box that’s now branded by the name of that particular sender.

If he asked, would Jun be willing to track down this fan for him?

 

They’ll probably think he’s gone insane again.

 

That evening, Chanyeol takes the very first new swerve towards his career. It’s dying and fading, but now, knowing that he has all these people who look up to him and following his material, the young author thinks that maybe he can stop writing for a love that wasn’t exactly love at all.

Chanyeol comes up with 9,856 words in one sitting. And despite the fact that he decided to ring Jun up at an ungodly hour, the editor had been more delighted, recognizing this as a pattern of which he’d have started on a plot line for a book.

“What do you have?” The blond rasped from the other line, his voice strained but expectant.

“Is now a good time…?” He clucked.

The sheets shuffled, and Chanyeol knew right away what the male was about to say.

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

Yeah, and maybe he _can_ ask Jun to track down that fan for him.

 

. . .

 

It’s been three years since his pen name Lynus Pyrelight has been buried to memory.

He’s seated in a comfortable chair where his clammy hands lay on the black velvet table, beside him, a nameplate _Park Chanyeol_ , his real name now flashing there. His trilogy also boasts his name on their covers, and Chanyeol had just signed for a movie deal with the Uarner Brothers, adapting his novel and will begin shooting in Fall.

 

Chanyeol is nervous really.

He’d gone through a lot, and has placed in all of his efforts to be where he is today. Chanyeol keeps his readership close, have learned about ways of how he can interact with them after Jun had done some research for him, acquiring a link to a fancafe that appeared to have been active some months after his career first shot off in his teenage years.

It was two years ago when he joined the community, and have created his own thread there, introducing himself as a close connection to _himself_ to encourage his readers to stay in touch and remain as an active community.

He’s also posted a letter that he’s written himself, all 4 pages of it with his signature just to prove the legitimacy of it—that one time, he found the thread oozing with responses—he found himself boasting more of him receiving their letters. He put up a selca of him with the pile.

The fans had never been joyful.

 

In the short span of 3 years, Chanyeol has made one important person in his life. Not only did he succeed in writing his new book, _See the World in Me_ , where a young man’s plummeting outlook in life had been saved by one mysterious person, meeting him one evening in a worn out café, where his books were stacked and offered for free to anyone that got bored.

Chanyeol’s book stood in both the aisles of non-fiction and fiction collections. It has been an inside controversy within his readership community, and until now, the mystery is yet to be solved.

 

At 30 minutes past 8 in the evening, Park Chanyeol tugs on his sleeves, breathing heavily as he’s just finished his very first book signing. It’s not the same as before, it’s overwhelming now, because it doesn’t take the usual hour that he was used to—it took 4 hours today, and Jun just told him  that they might have to extend in this particular bookstore.

Chanyeol doesn’t mind though. He’ll be okay anywhere.

 _“Hey,”_ he signs with his hands, a young petite male sits on the lounging area of one of the offices lent to him by the staffs.

The brunet smiles at the mere sight of him. Chanyeol’s heart constricts.

 

Oh, yeah.

He managed to get Jun to track down that fan for him—the amateur blogger who ran a book-review page, where Chanyeol’s book first made its name; and quite surprisingly, the head moderator of Chanyeol’s fancafe.

It’s as he’s written in his book.

 

He’d met the boy in a worn out café just near his new place, and after spending a round of coffee cups stealing glances at each other, the brunet approached him with a glint in his eyes that spoke of many things.

Chanyeol knew he was mute by the way his body moved—they spoke, louder than any words Chanyeol has ever heard—and it was history that came down afterwards. Learning about him, _finally_ finding him as he intended he would.

Chanyeol had many things to thank him for, because among those pile of letters, only he was the one who sent him a bundle every time. It’s like he’d write to him, an exclusive manuscript of his feelings—and Chanyeol had never felt so close to someone he’d never met in his entire life.

It changed when they did—when the petite’s eyes bulged open when he introduced himself with a measly handwriting of his, his name dirtily written there.

It changed, when instead of letters, they began meeting in the café, sometimes choosing elsewhere.

It changed when Chanyeol began pouring his heart out, the boy listening to every word with his thoughts out in the open for Chanyeol to read, when the both of them spend every day with their hearts on their sleeves and then there was nothing else to stop them—nothing else to stop their hearts from being one.

 

When they shared their first kiss, with the petite staring up at the author’s well-decorated walls, small boxes of letters proudly displayed there, Chanyeol merely embraced him from behind as the brunet let out a gasp, his beautiful hands reaching for that one specific box that stands out from everything else.

In it was that boy—his lover’s name is written.

‘Byun Baekhyun.’

 


End file.
